


Hesitation

by BayouSexual



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blow Jobs, Getting Together, Hopeful Ending, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, there's a drop of plot if you squint, this wasn't meant to be a PWP but it totally is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:00:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28284369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BayouSexual/pseuds/BayouSexual
Summary: “Finally.” He breathes, like it's a relief, like he’s been the only one stranded on an island of loathing and want and Lotor has just provided the way home. “I was getting sick of having too many bruises that I can’t explain.”------Or that fic where Lotor and Keith are usually fighting, but this time they find something better to do instead.
Relationships: Keith/Lotor (Voltron)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 43





	Hesitation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [selkiesou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/selkiesou/gifts).



> Wooowwwwee. I bounced around ideas for what to write you as a gift, and somehow I ended up on PWP soft-angst-desperate-blow-jobs Keitor??? It’s not the ABO fic it started strongly as, but I hope you enjoy this regardless. ♥
> 
> Special shoutout to Dee for beta-ing as well as making the idea that "Keith totally tastes like gunmetal" live in my head rent free.

_ “There is a charm about the forbidden that makes it unspeakably desirable.” _

_ - _ **_Mark Twain_ **

◦◠◦┄◦◠◦

He’s acting mindless, half-enraged and half-blind with aching determination as he crashes through the empty metal halls of the one place he really shouldn’t be— _ yet somehow always ends up _ . He tells himself that fate wouldn’t allow it if fate didn’t want it to happen, over and over, as many times as it takes. Lotor knows, in reality, that if he’d stop to think about it just a little longer each time, he’d puzzle out what a bad idea it really is. Especially to do this now, right after battle, and right before he’s meant to prove something he failed to prove over and over his entire life. 

He’s pushing his luck, but luck has yet to push back, and as the panel in front of him slides open with ease, he figures today isn’t the day to ask it why. 

Inside the room Keith is alone, waiting for him with a raised eyebrow and a downturned mouth. He looks mad and he looks  _ ready _ , waiting for Lotor to throw the first punch, or sling the first blade the way he normally does when they meet this way, but Lotor’s  _ tired _ of that.

He’s tired of the way it never gets them anywhere any faster, and truly, it's only been a way of masking what they really want. What they really  _ need  _ right now. He’s over allowing Keith time to anticipate— _ time to think _ . 

So, Lotor wastes no time in crowding him, pushing him backward until they’re meeting with the wall and Keith’s brow has dropped to confusion. His mouth opens, like he’s going to speak, going to  _ ask,  _ but Lotor doesn’t want that either. So, he dives, bringing a hand to fist at the back of Keith’s head, and dipping low enough to lick in between his pretty lips with little more than a growl. He expects resistance— _ rejection _ —and he gets it in the form of Keith’s hand coming to his shoulder and forcing him back in one swift movement. 

It’s in the moment the motion creates between them, where Keith’s pupils dilate, and Lotor realizes he’s panting, that it registers. It’s not resistance, not really, just  _ hesitation. _ Then Keith’s the one growling. 

“ _ Finally _ .” He breathes, like it's a relief, like  _ he’s _ been the only one stranded on an island of loathing and want and Lotor has just provided the way home. “I was getting sick of having too many bruises that I can’t explain.” 

The words make Lotor’s breath leave him, knocking him off-balance enough for Keith to use the grip he has on Lotor’s shoulders to push him to his knees, but he doesn’t resist.  _ No _ , he goes with ease, tilting his head back and meeting Keith’s gaze with  _ knowing _ . “I can’t promise that the ones I’ll leave on you tonight will be any less difficult.” 

Keith smirks, but he doesn’t complain when Lotor moves forward, hands resting on Keith’s thighs and mouth nearing territory more dangerous than any he’s ever crossed. He’s wanted this for so long that he can already feel it on the back of his tongue, anticipation reducing him to nothing more than a rabid beast. He could lose too much time here, on his knees, debating all the ways the power in their dynamic will have shifted after this, possibly forever, or he could ease his fingers under the skin tight material around Keith’s torso. He chooses the latter, and just in time based on the look on Keith’s face. 

“ _ Hurry _ .” Keith breathes, and Lotor can hear the drop in his voice as he fits his lips over the sharp edge of a hip bone, savoring it and not complying. “I don’t know how much time we have.” 

And Lotor doesn’t either, he just knows it’ll never be enough, not after this. Keith’s skin tastes like a firefight, and it only gets headier the lower he kisses, tugging harder at the fabric to make more room for his mouth, until he has Keith almost bare. Something in the back of his mind still anticipates rejection, expects something between them to snap, and it spurs Lotor on until he’s ripped the fabric all the way down to Keith’s ankles and is swallowing his cock whole. 

“ _ Y-yes _ .” Keith hisses, somewhere above Lotor’s head, but Lotor is no longer listening. He’s focused only on the blood rushing in his ears, and the weight on the back of his tongue where Keith’s cock rests. 

He’s softer than Lotor expected, his human half making him smooth, but the taste is just what Lotor wanted, saccharine sweet sweat lingering from combat. He breathes it in for a moment, before moving his hands back to Keith’s hips and holding him down. 

Keith’s hisses turn to moans when he starts moving, achingly slow, but still trying to rush. He alternates between twisting his tongue and swallowing, hoping the things he likes translate well onto Keith’s body. The way Keith shudders beneath his palms is his only clue to keep going, until Keith’s firm grip comes to his hair and tugs him back. 

“Sorry,” Keith pants, “I thought I heard something.”

Lotor growls, darting his eyes over to the main panel of Keith’s room to make sure it remains shut. If anyone so much as knocks in the next few minutes, nay, for the rest of the night, Lotor can’t promise he won’t kill them.

Keith must see the darkness flash across his face, because he lets go of Lotor’s hair long enough to smooth his hand through it before using it to tug Lotor back toward his crotch. 

“I think we’re good, but you better actually hurry now,” he reasons, cutting off any protest Lotor might give, “we really are low on time and I’d like to return the favor.” 

Lotor has to fight for the breath those words punch out of him, but he doesn’t have to be told twice, eagerly returning to the task at hand. He sucks Keith back down, and immediately swallows, eliciting a moan and a light buck of hips that he easily blocks, making sure the indents of his thumbs leave marks below the ones he’s already sucked onto Keith’s skin. He hopes they don’t fade for weeks to come. 

It leaves Keith trembling with the effort of not moving as Lotor takes him deeper. Each pull-back gives Lotor a moment to absorb the noises Keith’s trying to hold in as they spill out, short, quiet moans and gasps that Lotor desperately wants more of. He vows that next time— _ and he’s determined there will be many next times _ —he needs Keith to make noise freely, even if it means stealing him away on a secret ship. 

The thought is distracting, but Keith’s hand in his hair tugs him back to reality, trying to make him do something  _ more  _ or at least  _ faster.  _ Something about the desperation of the movement makes Lotor’s own cock twitch violently in it’s confines. He’s been conveniently ignoring his own throbbing want until now, and it makes him stutter in place, but Keith doesn’t seem to notice.

“ _ Lotor _ ,” Keith pleads with a low and broken sound, “ _ please _ .”

It’s non-specific, but Lotor  _ obeys _ , repeating the things he’s done with his tongue and moving his mouth all the way down to Keith’s base. He eases up on Keith’s hips, letting him buck into his mouth the way he wants to—needs to. They’re both chasing the same high now, and Lotor knows it's only a matter of moments until Keith shatters. 

Lotor is still ill-prepared for when Keith does, sudden and with a cry, straight down Lotor’s throat. He can do nothing but ride it out, closing his eyes and following the movement of Keith’s hips until they still and Lotor can pull back without wanting to chase the rest of Keith’s climax past the point of pain. 

He thinks that’s the end of it, he feels Keith’s knees almost buckling, but after a moment of heavy breathing the tugging in his hair returns persistently.

“Get up here.” Keith demands, and Lotor groans. 

He finds his own legs unsteady as he stands, letting himself be pulled until Keith can connect their mouths like he’s trying to find his center of gravity. It feels dramatic, like a collision of ships or stars, but it has the same sweet afterburn that seems to linger around Keith as a whole and Lotor folds into the kiss just to taste more of it. It’s no slower than the kiss Lotor stole when he first arrived, but something about it feels weighted now. 

Perhaps it's just time finally catching up. 

Lotor doesn’t get the chance to ponder. He attempts to pull back just enough to kiss a line down Keith’s jaw, but Keith slips between his fingers, flipping them in a single smooth motion that leaves Lotor crowded against the wall. Then he slides to his knees so— _ so very _ —slowly, dragging his thin hands down every inch of Lotor’s body, and Lotor can only pant and growl.

“Isn’t time still of the essence?” He muses, but it comes out more desperate than he’d like. “ _ Don’t _ tease me.” 

Keith doesn’t, though he does smirk daringly as he makes short work of Lotor’s suit, opening it just enough to relieve the tension on his aching cock. He doesn’t have the same strength as Lotor, so there’s no ripping fabric, but it's close enough with the way Keith separates it so easily from skin. 

Once again, Lotor expects hesitation when his cock—so different in shape and texture from Keith's own—is finally released, but Keith barely blinks. His mouth does fall open, but only so he can take the tip between his lips and slide them gently over the head in a way that makes Lotor catch fire. He wants to close his eyes, to let his head fall back so he can catch his breath, but he doesn’t. He meets Keith’s gaze instead, watching as he begins to slide down, jaw parting more to accommodate size, and lips stuttering over every ridge. 

It’s too much, Lotor’s already so on edge, and the water that gathers at the edges of Keith’s eyes as he finally chokes is just too much. The feral part of himself snaps, burying a hand in Keith’s hair, holding him down even as Lotor’s hips jut forward of their own accord. There’s no resistance, no restraint, and Lotor has to watch as Keith brings both his hands to his own throat, pressing down and moaning at the bulge in his own throat. 

Lotor has to bite his tongue to keep from screaming when he tips over the edge. He spills down Keith’s throat in a flash so blinding he doesn’t even realize his legs have given out until he’s already on the ground with Keith gasping against his shoulder. 

There’s a space where neither of them move and they just breathe together, ignoring how naked and exposed they are now, like they’re almost unwilling to catch up with everything that’s just transpired. Lotor breaks first, turning his head to look down at the Paladin at his side. Keith’s lips are still slick, and there’s a single tear still drying on his cheek. Lotor reaches up, hesitating and hand hovering, before finally wiping it away. He leaves his hand there, and Keith leans into it, blinking up at him. 

“I think,” Keith starts softly, voice barely a hoarse whisper as he leans further into Lotor’s side, moving the hand at his jaw and folding it gently into his own between them, “I think, this time, there might be something more to explain than bruises.” He leaves enough space for the gravity of those words to settle, their hidden meaning sinking straight into Lotor’s chest. Then he continues. “If I even have a voice box left to explain things with.” 

It lightens the mood just enough that the thoughts in the back of Lotor’s head go silent, and he feels himself smile. 

The minutes trapping them in place have run out for now, and soon he’ll have to let go of Keith’s hand, pull himself together, and go. They both have things they have to face—separate lives they have to lead, and battles they have to win—and Lotor knows the distance will ache. 

He knows he’ll inevitably push his luck again, and it might finally push back, but… 

_ If it’s anything like this time _ , he thinks,  _ it’s worth it _ .

◦◠◦┄◦◠◦

FIN.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to find me I'm on twitter @bayousexual
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated. 
> 
> (Catch me pumping out like a single Keitor fic a year for the past three years wow.)


End file.
